The Landlord at Lions Head — Complete eBook

Jackson made no recognition of Jeff’s professed
self-sacrifice. “I don’t want any
vacation. I’m feeling first-rate now.
I guess that stuff I had from the writin’ medium
has begun to take hold of me. I don’t know
when I’ve felt so well. I believe I’m
going to get stronger than ever I was. Jeff say
I needed a rest?”

Something like a smile of compassion for the delusion
of his brother dawned upon the sick man’s wasted
face, which was blotched with large freckles, and
stared with dim, large eyes from out a framework of
grayish hair, and grayish beard cut to the edges of
the cheeks and chin.

XXIV.

Mrs. Durgin and Cynthia did not seek any formal meeting
the next morning. The course of their work brought
them together, but it was not till after they had
transacted several household affairs of pressing importance
that Mrs. Durgin asked: “What’s this
about you and Jeff?”

“Has he been telling you?” asked Cynthia,
in her turn, though she knew he had.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Durgin, with a certain
dryness, which was half humorous. “I presume,
if you two are satisfied, it’s all right.”

“I guess we’re satisfied,” said
the girl, with a tremor of relief which she tried
to hide.

Nothing more was said, and there was no physical demonstration
of affection or rejoicing between the women.
They knew that the time would come when they would
talk over the affair down to the bone together, but
now they were content to recognize the fact, and let
the time for talking arrive when it would. “I
guess,” said Mrs. Durgin, “you’d
better go over to the helps’ house and see how
that youngest Miller girl’s gittin’ along.
She’d ought to give up and go home if she a’n’t
fit for her work.”

“I’ll go and see her,” said Cynthia.
“I don’t believe she’s strong enough
for a waitress, and I have got to tell her so.”

“Well,” returned Mrs. Durgin, glumly,
after a moment’s reflection, “I shouldn’t
want you should hurry her. Wait till she’s
out of bed, and give her another chance.”

“All right.”

Jeff had been lurking about for the event of the interview,
and he waylaid Cynthia on the path to the helps’
house.

“I’m going over to see that youngest Miller
girl,” she explained.

“Yes, I know all about that,” said Jeff.
“Well, mother took it just right, didn’t
she? You can’t always count on her; but
I hadn’t much anxiety in this case. She
likes you, Cynthia.”

“I guess so,” said the girl, demurely;
and she looked away from him to smile her pleasure
in the fact.

“But I believe if she hadn’t known you
were with her about my last year in Harvard—­it
would have been different. I could see, when
I brought it in that you wanted me to go back, her
mind was made up for you.”

“Why need you say anything about that?”

“Oh, I knew it would clinch her. I understand
mother. If you want something from her you mustn’t
ask it straight out. You must propose something
very disagreeable. Then when she refuses that,
you can come in for what you were really after and
get it.”